Love Mechanisms
by PhoenixOnTheRise
Summary: Resident badasses Brittany Pierce and Noah Puckerman of Lima, Ohio rule McKinley High School. Their lives consist of parties, girls, and working at Pierce Auto Shop. What happens when a gorgeous young relative comes to live with her cousin Puck and catches Brittany's eye? Will she change her ways, or will this mystery girl be just another notch in her bed post?
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Hi guys. Thank you so much to all of you who have followed me as an author and have followed my stories and favorited them so far. I have so many ideas that I'd like to write about and I'm glad that you're all so interested in me and have given me such positive feedback. **

**This story is something that's been on my mind for the past few days and I can't not pen it any longer. I was trying to delay it because midterms are coming up at the end of the month and I didn't want to not be able to update and leave everyone hanging. But alas, I could not. So, I've planned out a schedule that I'm going to do my absolute best to follow for the remainder of the month and somewhat into February. I've decided that I'll upload a two chapters, possibly more, twice a week: Sundays and Wednesdays (one chapter per day, unless I have time to write more). **

**Summary: Resident badasses Brittany Pierce and Noah Puckerman of Lima, Ohio rule McKinley High School. Their lives consist of parties, girls, and working at Pierce Auto Shop. What happens when a gorgeous young relative comes to live with her cousin Puck and catches Brittany's eye? Will she change her ways, or will this mystery girl be just another notch in her bed post?**

**Disclaimer. No copyright intended. Au. Brittana. Motocross!Brittany and Mechanic!Santana. **

**Okay, so without further ado, I present to you. . . chapter 1  
**

* * *

"PIERCE!" my dad's voice bellows through the garage and bounces off the walls straight passed my earbuds and work playlist. I hit my head on the bumper and let out an "ouch" as I wheel out from under the car. The most heavenly giggle fills my ears from about ten feet away. I stand up rubbing my head but stop when I see her. She's standing next to my dad and Puck but all I can see is her. My breath gets caught in my throat; she's fucking gorgeous. Brown eyes peer at me curiously as she holds a hand up to her mouth to stifle further laughter. I send her a goofy grin and she looks away shyly.

"Brittany this is Noah's cousin Santana. She just moved her and is in the same grade as you. Like Noah and yourself, she is also a mechanic. I want you to show her around for today." He turns to the latina. "Here is the key to your locker, number 69. . . "

"Wanky," I chime in, earning a glare from both Puck and my dad.

"Why don't you go change, then meet Brittany back out here so she can show you around, yeah?"

"Sure, Mr. Pierce," she responds, grabbing the key and strutting off in the direction of the women's locker room.

My dad nods at me so I give him a salute before he heads back to his office. Next thing I know, Puck grabs a fistful of my collar and is nose to nose with me.

"Look Brittany, you've been my best friend since forever, but let's get one thing straight. That girl in there," he points to the locker room door, "is the numero uno woman in my life. Don't even think about trying anything with her. You as much touch a hair on her head, and I will sneak into your house in the middle of the night and give a little make-over to your Harley Davidson 72. Comprendes?"

I nod frantically and gulp.

"Glad we cleared that up." He releases me and gives me a sly smile before sticking his hand out. I slap forward, slap back, knuckle touch, bump down, bump up, and double bro tap, it's kind of our thing.

* * *

_"What do you think you're doing loser?" Noah Puckerman spits out, kicking over my sandcastle. _

_"Hey!" I yell scrambling to my feet and crossing my arms, mocking his position. "That was mean. Tell me you're sorry!"_

_"And why should I do that blondie?" he responds._

_"Because I said so!"_

_"You can't tell me what to do. You're not my mother."_

_At this point, I'm enraged. How dare he? I spent all of recess building that castle. My fist flies out and catches him in the gut. He doubles over clutching the no doubt already forming bruise. What can I say, I my dad and I watch MMA together sometimes when mom's not home. I skip away like nothing happened and the bell rings signaling it's time to go back to class. _

_Noah doesn't say a word to me the entire time and sits as far away as possible. At the end of the day, he approaches me and sits on my desk so that his legs are hanging off the side and he's facing me._

_"You've got quite a punch, Pierce. We should be friends."_

_I stare at him, not quite understanding his angle. _

_"Look, Brittany," he grits out, "You and I are the coolest people here. But together we could be unstoppable. Just think about it. We could get anything we want. None of these other losers would be able to handle our awesomeness. We could help each other out. You get a real friend, and I get the prettiest girl in the first grade as my best friend. You gotta do it, Pierce. We could rule this school."_

_"Okay," He fist pumps, "But! Only one condition." I wait for him to nod, he does. "You cannot call me pretty. Ever again, Noah. If you even think about it I will not hesitate to kick you where it hurts. If you want to be as badass as you like to think you are, you're going to need to be tougher. And cut the name, it's almost as stupid as Rachel Berry's nose. Got it?"_

_He nods furiously. "Got it."_

_"Good. From now on, you're Puck. And I'm Fierce Pierce. No one messes with us."_

_"Okay, cool. We need to have, like, a secret handshake or something, it's like totally cool." he says._

_"Eh, why not. Stick your hand out." _

_And that's how it all began._

* * *

Ok, be cool. Just be cool, Brittany. She's just a girl. You've been with plenty of them, they're your area of expertise. You got this.

I try to give myself a pep talk while Santana gets changed so that I don't embarrass myself in front of her (again). Usually I'm a lot more suave when it comes to the ladies. I came out in fourth grade, I'm just that awesome. Puck was surprisingly cool with it, now he's my "lesbro" or whatever that means. We be each others' wing-person at parties. He stopped suggesting a three-some in our sophomore year at McKinley when I threatened to shave his mohawk if he didn't stop mentioning "How hot it would be." Needless to say, I've got a lot of tick marks on my bed posts. I'm not one to be tied down, no one can tame Fierce Pierce.

Santana comes back out in her navy blue mechanic jumpsuit tied around her waist and a crisp white tank top that her perfect breasts are peaking out of at the top. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun and she has a red bandana tied around it, knotted in the front. I'd be drooling if my mouth wasn't so dry. She must notice my ogling because she winks at me and says, "Like what you see?" smirk in place, resting a hand on her hip and batting her never-ending eyelashes.

"I. . . I. . . I'm Brittany!" I blurt out and mentally slap my forehead. So much for being cool.

She sticks her hand out, "Santana." she replies nonchalantly.

I realize I've been shaking her hand and staring so I pull away and wipe my hand on my overalls in hopes that it will stop tingling.

I clear my throat, "Right so, uh, tour." I lead her through the shop and make small talk.

"So, my dad says you're a senior, too right?" I ask. She nods. "McKinley?"

"Yeah, I start Monday." she says.

"Cool, Well you don't have to worry about anything. Puck and I got you covered. So, uh that concludes the tour, ma'am," I say in a faux accent and pretend to tip my imaginary hat in her presence. She giggles again. I could really get used to hearing that sound. I don't know what it is about this girl, but she's nothing like any girl I've ever been with. She gives me butterflies in my stomach and she's got me stumblin over my words. Damn I really need to pull it together.

"My dad has your timetable, so you can pick it up on the way out now that you know where the office is. If you get lost, just give me a shout, and I'll be happy to assist you in anything you need." I say with a wink.

"Thanks Brittany. You've been a big help so far. I don't know why Puck thinks you'd be a bad influence on me. He's an idiot sometimes. But I'm sure you know that already." she says with a blush.

"I'll see you around Santana" I say, sliding past her and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

* * *

**Okay, so I know that this was really short, but I just wanted to get a feel for the story. The plot will develop as the story goes on, as will the characters. The next chapter should be up Sunday, so stay tuned. Just to clear things up, Santana's going to be living at Puck's house, for reasons that will be announced later on in the story, and she will be attending McKinley High with Puck and Brittany as seniors. All three are working at Pierce Auto Shops, owned by Brittany's dad. Brittany's motocross lifestyle will begin to make an appearance, as well as Brittany's past and Santana's past, too. Puck probably won't play a major part in this story, but he will be important to the storyline. Okay, I'm done for now. See ya'll Sunday! **


	2. Chapter 2: Whorevettes and Lamborfreebes

It's Monday morning, meaning today is Santana's first day at McKinley. Puck honks the horn from outside while I put on my red lipstick to go with my red vans, grey skinny jeans, white v-neck, and signature black leather jacket. I check my hair one last time, perfectly curled, and strut downstairs yelling a goodbye to my dad as I grab my backpack and coffee and leave. Puck is fiddling with the radio and Santana is in the back seat trying to stay awake.

"Took you long enough," says Puck.

I roll my eyes at him and take a sip of my coffee.

"Morning," Santana grumbles out from behind me. Apparently she's not a morning person, but I find it cute. I take one last sip of my coffee before offering it to her.

"Brittany, I couldn't possibly take your coffee," She replies, straightening up and rubbing her eyes.

"You look like you need it more than I do," I say, handing it to her.

"Thanks." She blows on the top before taking a sip. "Mmhmm. Hazelnut mocha. My favorite." She hums in appreciation.

"Mine too" I say smiling at her through the rearview mirror.

"Okay, time for school." Puck chimes in, clenching his jaw and pulling away from the curb.

The ride to school is silent except for the radio playing. Santana sits in the back sipping the coffee in black trackies, a black Paramore t-shirt halfway tucked, and white and black Jordan high tops. I look out the window and hum along to whatever's playing as Puck drives.

We pull up to school and Puck parks in his normal spot by the entrance. We nod to each other before getting out. Santana follows in between us with her brown leather satchel hanging off her right shoulder.

"Kick ass today Pierce," Puck says referring to my race afterschool today.

"You know it, Puckerman," I says, smirking, before Puck leads Santana to Figgin's office to get her schedule. I head to my locker to grab a pack of cigs before making my way to the football field bleachers for a smoke. I have study hall first period, so it's not like anyone can get on my case for skipping. The bell rings and I head inside, finding Santana struggling to get her locker open.

"Need help?" I question, leaning on the locker next to her.

She jumps back in fright, a hand clutching her erratically beating heart. She just nods.

"Combo?" I ask walking to the lock.

"34-36-34"

As I fiddle with the lock, Cheerio and frequent booty call Stephanie comes up to me, squeezing my ass with her left hand and gripping my bicep with her right.

"You're mine tonight Pierce," She leans up and whispers in my ear. "See you later babe," she says out loud and walks away with a wink.

I gulp and turn back to my task at hand, avoiding eye contact with Santana.

"Who w-was that?" she asks.

"Just Stephanie," I reply popping her locker open. "Shit!" I screech jumping back. Inside her locker is a family of mice nesting on a pair of granny panties. "Ben Isreal" I mumble to myself. "Mr. Kidney," I yell out, spotting him across the hall. "Get on it," I say, pointing to the locker.

"Come on," I say with a head nod to Santana, "You can have the locker next to mine that's empty."

She follows me silently. Fuck, not how I planned for this to go. We arrive at the lockers and I hit it with my right fist. It pops open immediately. Luckily there's nothing in this one.

"40-10-45" I say.

"Thanks," She says, still refusing to meet my eyes. "No prob. Let me see your schedule."

She grabs it out of her pocket and unfolds it before handing it to me.

"We have second period together, so I can walk you there. Also, lunch, history, and gym." I say, giving her schedule back, smiling.

"Welcome to McKinley, Loser!" Karofsky says throwing a red slushy in Santana's face.

I open my locker real quick and grab a spare tee before taking Santana's wrist and guiding her to the girls bathroom as Puck storms down the hallway, rage painting his features.

"Scram!" I yell at all the occupants of the bathroom. They flee out.

"Just keep your eyes closed," I say gently to a panic-stricken Santana.

I begin to wipe her face off with paper towels as she whimpers from the coldness. Puck no doubt clocked Karofsky already, so that's one less thing I have to worry about. We're quiet as I finish wiping off her face and neck. I turn the water on after tossing away the towels and instruct her to lean back. She obliges and I rinse out her hair then instruct her to rinse her eyes. She dries her hair under the automatic drier and I give her my red McKinley t-shirt. She heads into one of the stalls stoically and I sigh in defeat. I should've been able to protect her. Now she probably hates it here and it's all my fault. I can only hope that she doesn't leave, not when she just got her.

"Thanks," She says, making brief eye contact with me before turning back to ring out her ruined shirt in the sink. I nod silently.

"Brittany, you're late." Mr. Schue says disappointingly as I walk into Spanish, Santana trailing behind me.

"I know, Mr. Schue, but Santana needed my help and I was the only one around." I say, stepping aside to reveal the miserable girl. He nods knowingly. I take my usual seat in the back as the room erupts in gossip while curly hair talks to Santana. She nods at him before taking an open seat in the middle.

"Okay, class. . . " Mr. Schue begins and I zone out.

* * *

I come back from winning my race, because, Duh! I'm Fierce Pierce. I take a quick shower before getting "all dolled up" for Puck's victory party. Which, of course, was pre-planned. I haven't lost since, hell, I've have yet to lose a race.

I pull my hair back into a slick ponytail after straightening it, sweeping my bangs to the right. I apply some lip gloss and smirk at myself in the mirror. I got a baby blue and red floral strapless bikini top dress on as well as high-waisted white jean shorts, matching baby blue toms, and of course, my leather jacket. I wink at my reflection and shove my phone down my bra top. It's 11 pm, so my dad's already asleep, but he knows where I'll be so it's fine.

I walk to Puck's because it's cool to be fashionably late and it gives me time to get my act together.

Of course when I get there the party is in full swing and nobody really notices when I waltz in and head straight to the alcohol. Pitbull's new song "Timber" ft Ke$ha is blasting through the speakers and like Miley says, there are, "Red cups and sweaty bodies everywhere." I pour myself a rum and coke as Puck comes up to me a throws an arm around my shoulder, clinking his cup to mine. He's already drunk, but he'll keep drinking until he's shit faced and naked in bed with a girl. I shrug his arm off me and make my way to the dance floor, setting my cup down on an end table as I go. The music flows through my veins as I pop it, lock it, and drop it on the floor. I make my way back into the kitchen after a few songs and somehow find myself on the table, Stephanie pouring salt onto my abs and doing body shots off me, the crowd cheering from around us.

"WHO'S NEXT?" a football player yells out.

"My turn," Santana sing-songs, stepping -more like swaying- out from the crowd. I gulp as she approaches me, smirking. We hold eye contact as she reaches for the salt, but doesn't reach it because she is grabbed by Puck. She is hoisted over his shoulder and throwing a hissy fit as he carries her outside. The crowd disperses and I try to hide my disappointment. Stephanie drags me upstairs to an open room and starts assaulting my neck with her lips, but my mind and interest is anywhere but there.

**Meanwhile outside. . . **

"WHAT THE HELL NOAH!" I screech as he puts me down.

"Goddamit, Santana, I told you to stay away from Brittany." he says, running a hand through his mohawk.

"Why? She hasn't done anything wrong, Noah. She's actually been really nice to me." I protest.

"That's great San, it really is, but right now she's in a room with some slut who is using her for sex. She smokes. She drinks. She skips classes. She doesn't give a shit about anything or anyone, besides motocross, and maybe her dad and me. Trust me, Tana, she's not someone you want to be around. If she were a car, she'd be a whore-vette."

"You're one to talk, Mr. Lambor-free be." I spit.

He sighs. "Look, Tana, I'm just trying to look out for you. There's a reason why Brittany is the way she is, but that's something she'll have to tell you herself, and Brittany's a hard one to crack. I only know because I was there with her when it happened. She's not going to change, though, Santana. This is who she is now. You can do better than that, Tana, I. . . Just please listen to me, okay? I don't want us to drag you down."

The gears start turning in my head. I nod at him absentmindedly. He grins and pulls me into a hug, which I reciprocate.

**(Brittany's POV)**

I wake up with a killer hangover. Pulling on a pair of pajama bottoms and a tank top that I keep at Puck's house for occasions like this, I make my way into the bathroom for water and Advil. Thank god it's Saturday, I think to myself. I pull out my spare toothbrush and mouthwash and go through the motions.

Puck's house is trashed as expected, but I somehow manage to find some cereal and a clean bowl. Santana comes down and sits next to me. She buries her head in her arms on top of the table and I instinctively use my free hand to rub circles on her back. After a few minutes, I get up and get her a bowl of cereal, too.

"Thanks," she grunts out. We eat in silence. When I'm finished I toss my bowl in the sink and head upstairs to get changed for my shift in the garage.

Things are awkward and tense as I leave the house. I don't know how to act around Santana. It's like I want to be around her but I don't. I feel like she's a magnet whenever we're in the same room but both of us are positive. I shake my head as I make my way to the garage. Luckily Puck or Santana don't have to work today so I dock my Ipod in the office and stream it through the speakers, letting my thoughts slip from my mind as I focus on my work.

***Hides in corner* chanting "please don't hate me." If you can review, it would mean a lot to me. Next chapter we'll find out Santana's plan to get close to Brittany, but that's all I'm going to spoil. Until Wednesday my little birds. **


	3. Chapter 3: Flash from the Past

**I'm back. Hi! I don't know much about cars or bikes or motocross so anything that references that is from research off Google. So, if anything is incorrect just let me know and I'll fix it as fast as I can. Again, thank you so much to those of you who wrote me reviews. You literally don't know how happy they make me. I'm working on making my chapters longer, but until then, 2000 words will be about the standard length. The first part is kind of just filler information for now, but it'll be necessary later on. Oh, and by the way, I don't know if I mentioned it or not but the story is taking place around October. I'll be sure to include any time changes from now on. Okay, here goes**

* * *

I undo the zip tie around front break lever and toss it to the side. My dad helps me life my bike off the truck and onto the ground. I take a walk around the track while my mechanic Geoffrey checks to make sure everything is in place and ready for use. I don't need Geoffrey on practice days, I could do all those things myself, but my dad says it takes away time and focus. (He just wants Geoffrey to get his pay's worth, really.) Once I've scoped the track and Geoff finishes my bike, I straddle it and strap my gloves. I've got my favorite uniform on today. It's purple, black, and white with purple flames rising up it. It reads Fierce Pierce on the back and the matching gloves are super cool. I wear female boxers on underneath and a pair of knee-length compressions shorts on my bottom half. As for the top, a good sports bra and my lucky tank-top. My helmet is simple and black, but guarantees the best protection. A mouth guard is helpful. I prefer the rubber-like top guard, in all colors, of course. Goggles are extremely important. From a young age, I've been wearing goggles everywhere to get used to them. By now, I feel naked without them and often forget to take them off after riding. I've never actually worn a chest protector, never felt the need to. Although they come recommended, my motto was always "Take it like a man!" And what would a girl be without her shoes. My boots are custom made. Simple black and white to match all my uniforms, but the bottoms say Fierce and Pierce like Woody and Buzz in Toy Story.

I do a few practice wheelies and power slides to test the bike. Once everything seems to be working properly, I take my bike up to the gates. My dad brings out his white flag and the gates drop, leaving me off to a good start. I cut in when necessary and apply the brakes to effectively shave .3 seconds off my previous time.

Next we move over to the track set for jumps. We spend hours there because it's my favorite kind of race. When I'm bored I come out here and do freestyle routines filled with tricks of the trade. It's the greatest thrill in the world to nail a difficult trick after spending so much time working on it.

Before practice ends, my dad lets me do some runs in the pits for fun.

* * *

I'm exhausted after a long day of practice so we load up the bike and head down to our favorite diner. It's a secluded little diner, but my dad and I love it. We've been coming here since my first race. We know all the waitresses by name and they know us, as well as our orders. We take our spot in the back booth by the jukebox and dad slips quarter in.

"What shall it be Britt?" he asks.

"Your Love, The Outfield" I answer without hesitation. Growing up with my dad we listened to a lot of 80s music. I wouldn't admit it to anyone, but I love it. Journey, Fleetwood Mac, Duran Duran, Wham!, The Bangles, Michael Jackson, Hall & Oats, Madonna, Prince, Whitney, Guns & Roses, Van Halen, Whitesnake, Cyndi Lauper, The Go-GOs, Pat Benetar, Queen, Aerosmith, The Beastie Boys, Salt n Peppa, Jon Mellencamp, The Human League, Phil Collins . . . I could go on forever! One of my favorite songs is Roxanne by the Police.

"Aunt Holly!" I yell jumping out of my seat and wrapping the woman up in a bear hug. Holly is by far my favorite waitress. She's not actually my aunt, but she might as well be. We have similar personalities and looks. Holly was the first one to wait on us and ever since we've grown quite attached.

"My look how you've grown," she says teasingly as we pull back. I chuckle. Holly and I only see each other about four times a year between our conflicting schedules.

She tells us she'll go get our drinks and put our order in so she can come back to sit and talk. My dad thinks he's good at hiding it, but Holly and I know he is quite smitten with her. I keep telling him that he should ask her on a date, but he always chickens out. Maybe today will be different.

Holly comes back with a cherry coke for my dad and a chocolate caramel banana smoothie for me. She slides in next to me and the conversation flows easily.

I cherish these times with my dad. We don't get to just chill due to the craziness of the shop and my school work and racing. Plus it's my senior year so I want to spend as much time with him as possible before I'm an adult in the real world and possibly going to college. We all know I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, so my dad never pressured me to be a scholar. That's one of the many things I love about my dad; he knows my strengths and weaknesses and when to push me and just how far I can be pushed.

Holly lets us eat while she serves more tables. We talk about nothing and everything over the world's best burgers and fries. Dad orders coffee afterwards and I get another smoothie for dessert. Holly comes back with our check, and slides in next to me again.

"When's your next race, sweet cheeks?" she asks.

"About two weeks. October 18."

"I'll see if I can make it. Text me the details, yeah?" She says.

I smile back at her, "Sure Aunt Hol. It be so great if you could come."

We hug again and dad pays the check before we go home and I take a well-needed shower and rest.

* * *

Santana has been avoiding me like the plague and Puck has been abnormally quiet for since the party. That was a week ago. I don't question it just yet. We've all been pretty busy with school and the shop, and me with my racing, too. But that doesn't mean it hasn't been all I've been able to think about. Actually, no, not Puck, but Santana, yes. She's intriguing. She's beautiful. She's mysterious. And I'm fascinated, in awe, and curious.

Today is my work out day. I spend one or sometimes two days a week training my body to stay in shape and excel in areas that help me win races. Coach Beiste of the football team gave me a key to the weight room freshman year after she caught me breaking into it multiple times. She tested me to make sure I knew what I was doing and that I was safe. She warned me if anything was damaged or out of place she would not hesitate to seek me out. So far nothing has gone wrong.

I change in the girls' locker room at the far end of the school. This locker room is only used in the winter for the swim team consisting of no more than three girls, so it's convenient for me, plus nobody really knows about it or cares about it. I've got a key to it, too, compliments of my good friend Mr. Kidney.

Once changing into old grey sweats that cut off just past the knee, a red and white tie-dye sports bra, and Oklahoma nike trainers 5.0, I make my way out to the track to do a two mile warm-up. Once sweaty and loose, I head back inside to the weight room to do some lifts. The school is vacant in this wing, so I can play my music as loud as I like and not get into trouble for it. I hook my IPod up to the speakers and set my workout playlist. Most people prefer pump music when working out, but I'm the opposite. Calm keeps my focus. Keane's Somewhere Only We Know echoes off the walls and I crack all my joints as I walk towards the pull up bar. I do six before dropping down and doing 100 sit ups and 25 push-ups. I use dumbbells for shoulder T's, bicep curls, and on the Olympic bench. I use kettle balls and steps to work my stamina. Then I make my way to the cable machines for legs, back, chest, arms, and shoulder workouts. I work my core and my glutes with squats and other stuff. Then I do some ladders for cardio and footwork. Finally, after medicine balls, I make my way to the bench press. I do twenty one reps at 110, because my competition only does twenty. I get on the treadmill and jog for ten minutes then spend a half hour properly stretching to cool down. Haley Reinhart flows through the speakers and the lyrics to Undone penetrate my skin as I wipe down the equipment. I throw on a McKinley noodie and sling my bag over my shoulder before locking up. Making my way out of the school, I notice someone familiar on the bleachers watching football practice. I give her a wave and she waves back, a shy smile playing on her lips. Beiste's whistle breaks us from our trance and she turns back to the practice, leaving me with my cue to leave, smiling like a fool as I make my way home.

* * *

Things go back to normal the next week. It's the week of my race, an AMA qualifier, and I couldn't be more psyched. Holly promised to be there and Puck said he'd go to watch me kick Jesse St Dick's ass. We've been rivals since the first race. It was a shot to his ego to lose to a girl and he's hated me ever since.

The night before the race, once everything is packed, I spend an hour staring lying in bed staring at my star painted ceiling and listening to Journey, a pre-race ritual. I mentally prepare myself for the race during that hour. It lulls me into a deep sleep and I dream about my first race.

I wake up abruptly, sweating and panting heavily. Glancing at the clock, I realize I have twenty minutes before my alarm goes off, so I strip down on my way to the bathroom, discarding my clothes on the floor haphazardly. I grip the sink and stare at my reflection in the mirror while the shower temperature heats up. Once it reaches scalding, I step in and let the water hit my back and wet my hair. It burns and pricks my skin, effectively turning it red almost immediately. I let the tears fall free and I sink down to the floor of the shower bringing my knees up to my chest and clutching them tightly. My silent tears turn into heart-wrenching sobs as thoughts and flashbacks cloud my mind.

My eyes are puffy and red as I step out of the shower and swipe my hand over the mirror to clear evaporation. I clutch the towel wrapped securely around my body and clear my throat to shake off the emotional pain, but it will never go away. I find a pair of skinny jeans and a plain white t-shirt before applying make-up as if nothing ever happened. I fake a smile in the mirror. Satisfied with my acting, I walk out my bedroom leaving behind the events that just happened.

My dad is at the table reading the paper and sipping coffee when I enter the kitchen with my backpack slung on over one shoulder.

"Morning," he says not even glancing up.

"Morning" I reply with fake cheerfulness.

"Ready for today?" he asks, setting down the paper and focusing on me.

I lean against the counter with a water bottle in one hand and banana in another.

"Hell Yeah," I says smirking.

"Good. Good. You're gonna do great, honey. I'll pick you up from school with everything and we'll head right to the check-in. Puck is going to follow us. Says he's bringing a friend, too, but didn't say who. And Holly said she'd meet us in the tent when I text her after we get settled," he says.

I nod. "Kay dad. I've gotta go. Love you." I give him a kiss on his bald head before strolling out to Puck pulling up.

* * *

School is a blur and I fake my way through class after class after never fucking ending class. The last bell of the day rings and students are rushing out to start their weekends. I take my time and stroll to the rear locker room to fix my composure. I splash water up onto my face to wake me up and also take off my make-up. I look at myself in the mirror and whisper, "Why was I not good enough?"

The mirror shatters into a million pieces when I send my fist through it. The glass hits the ground in clinks. A few of my knuckles have cuts but nothing compared to the bleeding gash on my right ring finger. How poetic, shatters cause bleeding. It's all too familiar. Suddenly I'm gasping for air and my vision is waning. I'm chocking on my breaths and there's a burn in my eyes that I know all too well. I grip the wall for support with both hands. The words running through my head are _hers_ from that night. I can't make it stop. It's out of my control. Just like that night. I'm wheezing and sputtering and my hands are going numb. The whole experience is in slow motion. I'm getting dizzy. I collapse almost unconscious, but never hit the floor.

"Brittany wake up! Brittany! Can you hear me? Brittany wake up! Damn it Brittany! Look at me. Just open your eyes and look at me. Please," the voice pleads.

I groan in acknowledgement, but still can't bring myself to open my eyes and see who's holding me. They're strong. And feminine. Her arms are small but comforting. She stand me up and pins me to the wall with one arm. Water hits my face from my right. A confident slap on my left cheek brings me out of my stupor. By now the blood has dried on my hand and my eyes are once again red and puffy. My hair is disheveled and there's no doubt a hand print where she hit me.

Her brown eyes convey nothing but worry and concern. She's speechless. As am I. She searches my pupils for any indication of another panic attack. I just blink, lost in the hot chocolate swirls of her orbs, I wanna melt into her. The deafening silence is oddly solacing.

"Are you okay?" she asks hesitantly.

I nod slowly, not breaking eye contact with her. She hugs me tightly, taking me by surprise. I cautiously wrap my arms around her slender waist. She smiles meekly into my shoulder and close my eyes, basking in her warmth and safety. Our bodies fit, I realize. Like puzzle pieces. She pulls back slowly, leaving her arms on my shoulder then running her fingertips down my arm, giving me chills; she stops and gently grasps my wrists.

"I don't think you should race today," she tells me.

"I have to," I say unconvincingly.

"Brittany. . ."

"No, Santana, I have to race." I say firmly, tugging my hands out of her grip and storming past her. I hear her sigh behind me but I don't look back.

* * *

My dad senses something is wrong, but he's too afraid to say anything that might set me off, so he says nothing. The ride to the meet is tense. So tense it could be cut with a knife. A sharp, giant knife. Like a sword. It stays like that through check in and settling in the tent.

"I'm gonna go scope the track," I say avoiding eye contact.

"Okay, I'll be here. I'm just gonna call Holly," he replies.

I nod and walk out putting my earbuds in. Faithfully plays and I escape from reality into my racing world.

"Well, well, well, lookie here. It's weird Pierce," St. James says smirking in front of me.

"Talk's cheap, St. Lame. You can go crying to your mommy after I'm done wiping the floor with your ass and mop of an excuse you call hair." I say with a matching smirk walking away.

"At least I got a mom!" he yells out to my retreating figure.

I freeze. My hands clench into fists and I clench my jaw, grinding my teeth once. Don't let him get to you, I tell myself. Don't let him get to you. I keep walking until I get back to my tent and flop down on the couch. Luckily no one says a word to me and they decide to give me some space by leaving the tent mumbling "food."

I put my earbuds back in and close my eyes, stretching out sideways onto the couch. My hands clasp together on my stomach and I float away to when I was six years old.

* * *

_Strong hands grip my shoulders from behind. _

_"You're going to do great kiddo. Just go out there and have fun. It doesn't matter if you come in first, second, third, or last Britt-Britt. A trophy is just a piece of metal, but an experience is priceless," My dad tells me._

_"Okay, daddy," I say giving him a toothless smile. "I love you."_

_He grins and tells me he loves me too._

_"Racers to the gates please, all racers to the gates. The tike division will begin in ten minutes. Thank you." says the PA system._

_My dad and I walk together to the gates. He gives me one last hug before taking a seat in the stands and giving me a thumbs up. I give him a thumbs up back._

_A sneer comes from beside me and I turn to see an arrogant son of a bitch next to me. He's got curly hair and devil eyes. _

_"Jesse St. James," he says. "Don't take your first loss to hard, okay. When I win, I'll be sure to thank you for letting me take the lead."_

_I furrow my brow in confusion. Did this kid think I was going to let him win? I'm Fierce Piece, I don't just _let_ anyone win, they have to beat me fair and square. Good luck with that, I think to myself. We pull our helmets down and I strap my gloves. I test my brakes. All good. Gears. All set. Body position. Perfectly poised. Mentality. Bring it! _

_The official drops the white flag and I fly out the gates rutting the hardest base possible. St James is slightly behind me. I cut him off on the first turn. I wish I could've seen his face in that moment. I smirk triumphantly and lean forward with a newfound boost in confidence. _

_I end up coming in first, St. James in second, and a boy named Rider in third. I thought that was funny. _

_I run into my dad's arms with the trophy in my right hand and he picks me up and spins me around, peppering my face with kisses. I giggle uncontrollably. St. James storms off to his tent without saying a word to anyone, and going out of his way to push aside people not even remotely close to him._

_"You did it baby girl, I knew you would!" my dad says putting me down. "Let's go celebrate, eh?"_

_I nod, a toothless grin spreading ear to ear._

_We pack up from the tent and load the bike onto my dad's truck. I take shotgun and buckle myself in. Humming happily to myself. We drive around to a small diner in a secluded area._

_"Your grandfather used to take me here after races when I was your age," he said._

_Our waitresses name was Holly. I asked her what she recommended. She laughed at my adult-like manner and told me, "How bout I surprise you?" _

_I nodded, "Okay."_

_She brought back my dad's cherry coke and for me a mysterious colored frozen drink._

_"Try it," she encouraged._

_Dad and Holly looked at me expectantly as I took a hesitant first sip._

_"It's really good," I said before downing half of it. "Oh, brain freeze!" I exclaimed clutching my nose. Both adults giggled._

_"Put your thumb on the roof of your mouth like this," Holly said demonstrating. "It's a chocolate caramel banana smoothie, by the way. _

_"It's heaven," I said innocently. She smiled warmly at me._

_"Okay, what do we want to eat?" she asked._

_"Chicken fingers and fries. With ketchup." I said enthusiastically._

_"Turkey burger. Extra zesty mayo. And can I substitute fries for onion rings?" my dad ordered._

_"Sure thing," says Holly. "It'll be out in about ten minutes."_

_"What's that face for?" My dad asks._

_"You're gonna have stinky onion breath," I tease._

_He laughs. "You're right, mommy won't wanna kiss me with stinky onion breath will she?" _

_"Nope," I reply giggling._

_"Come on Britt," he says offering out a hand to me, "I want to show you something."_

_"What is it?" I say sticking my face against the case._

_"It's a jukebox. It plays music," he says._

_"How does it work," I question turning back to him._

_He reaches into his back pocket for a quarter and tells me where to insert it._

_"Then, you just pick a song with these keys, and it'll play it."_

_"Hmm, I pick. . . this one!" I say hitting a random button._

_Take My Breath Away starts playing and my dad asks, "May I have this dance, Ms. Pierce," bowing and sticking out a hand to me._

_He lets me stand on his feet as we waltz around the restaurant. I laugh and smile uncontrollably. When the song ends we make our way back to our table just in time for food. _

_I dig in immediately and hum in approval at the first bite. Dad and Holly chuckle at my antics. _

_"I'll be back in a few to see how you're doing and if you need anything. But until then, enjoy!" says Holly._

_"That good, huh?" Dad asks me._

_I nod still shoving food into my mouth. We eat in relative silence. Holly comes out with the check and a smoothie to go for me. She winks and says, "on the house."_

_"See you soon, Ms. Holly," I say before we leave._

_"That was so cool. Thanks daddy." I say climbing into the truck._

_"Anytime kiddo," he responds smiling at me._

_We sing along to the radio in a bliss as we drive home. I help my dad unpack everything outside and I kick off my muddy boots before entering the house. _

_My mom comes downstairs and drops down to my level._

_"How was it?" she asks ruffling my hair._

_I tell her everything that happened in intricate detail. She smiles and nods at me throughout my story._

_"And I won and I got a big trophy and dad took me out to this old diner and we had the bestest food."_

_"That's great baby, I bet you were wonderful." She coos._

_I nod. "Yep. I'm the bestest. I'm going to beat all the boys and become the bestest racer in the world just like daddy used to be." I say grinning._

_"You do that baby. I know you can." she says. "Why don't you go start a bath, honey, I'll be up in a minute."_

_"Okay," I shrug, skipping away. _

_I'm splashing around in the bath tub with my rubber ducky family when there's muffled shouting downstairs. I can't make out what they're saying but it scares me. My parents never fight, not when I'm around at least. I gets quiet until I hear my mom's footsteps come up the steps. She rolls up her sleeves and kneels next to me wordlessly and distraught._

_"Mommy. Are you okay? Why were you yelling?"_

_"I'm okay, Britty. You're father and I were just discussing adult things, and it got a little. . . passionate. You don't have to worry about a thing, baby girl. I love you."_

_"Love you too mommy." I reply, forgetting all about it and handing her the shampoo. _

_She brings me my jammies and combs my hair after I put them on. She carries me to my bed room and tucks my in under my Ariel blanket. _

_I yawn and she places a delicate, lingering kiss on my forehead. _

_"Sweet dreams, my little angel. Mommy loves you."_

_She hits the lights on the way out and I fall fast asleep._

_A dip in the bed wakes me up in the middle of the night._

_"Mommy?" I question, sitting up and rubbing my tired eyes._

_"Brittany, baby, my boss called. They need me to go on a business trip right away. It's super duper important. Take care of daddy for me, okay. I love you." She hugs me tightly and rests chin on top of my head._

_"I love you too," I say, wrapping my little arms around her back._

_"When will you be back," I ask pulling away._

_She tenses slightly. "I. . . I Don't know yet, baby. I'll be back when I can, though, okay. I'll always come back for you. I love you so, so much."_

_"Okay, mommy. I'll miss you." I say sincerely._

_"I'll miss you, too, baby girl. Now get some sleep, you've had a long day." She says kissing my forehead. I roll into a fetal position with my back facing the door and drift back into slumber._

_She never came back._

* * *

"Britt, wake up," my dad says gently shaking me. "Time to race, kiddo."

I get up groggily and stretch before grabbing my gear and heading into the bathroom.

I go through the motions, knowing them like the back of my hand. I wash off the dried blood carefully and stick some gauze on it, securing it with med tape.

I hug Holly and my dad at the tent entrance and tell them I'll see them after the race. They head over to the stands laughing and talking carelessly. Puck waves them over. Santana is sitting next to him biting the inside of her cheek nervously. I sigh, but there's nothing I can do about it.

I put my earbuds in for one last song while I take my bike up to the gates. It's déjà vu when I turn and see Jesse lined up next to me. I roll my eyes and he smirks. I pop my mouth piece in and pull down my helmet. I strap my gloves nice and tight then flex the fingers before taking my position. I rev the engine expertly and wait for the white flag to go down.

I'm out of the hatches at the same pace as Jesse. I go to brake on my first turn but nothing happens and I slide into the barracks uncontrollably, landing on my right shoulder. The bike is on top of me and I can't move. Pain is searing through my shoulder and I yell out clutching it with my good arm.

"And Pierce is down. This doesn't look good folks. I don't know what just happened, but this isn't like Pierce."

"I've just got word that we have to stop the race. Everyone take a short intermission. The ambulance is on its way, Brittany. Just hold tight," the announcer says.

I feel the bike being lifted off me and someone helping me to my feet. My dad's arm grips my waist to hold me upright. His hand tosses aside my helmet.

"My br-brake, didn't work." I say.

He clenches his jaw and nods.

Puck and Santana are jumping over the barriers with agile. My dad holds a hand up to them to stop them from colliding with us. Puck sticks his hands in his letterman jacket and Santana stands with her hands clasped in front of her, both unsure of what to say.

All three of them are worried. But I can't focus on anything but agonizing pain in my shoulder. The ambulances arrive shortly and my dad and friends stand back as the paramedic assesses me on the back of the car. He signals my dad over, and Puck and Santana follow behind like puppies.

"There's obvious swelling right now and the skin took quite a beating with these scrapes. I'm going to take her to the hospital to get an x-ray. Only one of you can ride in the ambulance with her, the other two have to follow us," says the paramedic.

My dad nods. "Santana, why don't you go with her. Puck you follow behind. I'm going to stay here and take care of some business. Will you be okay, Britt-Britt?" he asks.

"Sure, dad, just don't do anything rash," I warn.

He sticks out his pinky and I wrap mine around his. He kisses me on the forehead then lets me go.

* * *

Santana sits next to me in the ambulance on my good side. She intertwines her hand in mine and rest her head on my shoulder and sighs. The ride is silent. She stares at the wall across from us and I stare at her.

She waits in the waiting room as I get my x-rays and an arm sling when the doctor tells me it's just sprained. He prescribes some pain killers and advises me not to partake in any strenuous activity for six weeks then come back for a check-up. I thank him and shake with my good hand. Puck is with Santana when I come back out.

"That is so not as badass as I thought it would be, Pierce," he teases.

I roll my eyes. "Whatever, Puck, we all know I am more badass as you'll ever be."

He scoffs playfully. "In your dreams, B. Can we go get some food, I'm starving."

"Sure, let me call Holly and see where she got off to."

"Hello?" she answers.

"Hey Hol, It's me."

"Oh Brittany, my gosh! Are you okay? What happened?"

"My brake malfunctioned." I reply. "Sprained my shoulder and I'm out for six weeks. Where'd you run off to?" I ask curiously

"I, uh, just had to go to the bathroom," She says nervously and unconvincingly.

I play along. "Okay, Where are you now?"

"I'm at the track with your dad," She says honestly.

"Puck, Santana, and I are going out for food. Would you and my dad like to join us?"

"I'm sorry Brittany, but we can't right now. We're still trying to figure out why your bike broke. Maybe next time." she says.

"Oh, okay then. Good luck with that. Wait, what do you know about bikes?" I ask shocked.

"More than you think sweet cheeks. I gotta go, catch ya later, yeah? Stay out of harm's way."

I chuckle. "Will do Holly. Bye."

"Bye" she replies hanging up.

"Just us for food," I say.

"Let's go amigas." Puck says, throwing an arm around my good shoulder and one Santana's shoulders.

* * *

**(Brittany's Dad POV)**

I'm looking at the bike thinking this can't be right. Britt's brake cables were worn out and on the verge of snapping. They weren't like that during practice this week, and I know Britt checks her bike every time.

"Someone tampered with her bike," Holly says from behind me, arms folded across her chest.

"Looks like it," I say sighing and running a hand over my bald head.

"Who would do that?" she asks.

"I think I know who." I say.

When I walk into Jesse's tent I'm surprised to see my mechanic Geoff laughing it up and drinking a beer with that scumbag.

I clear my throat loudly.

"Oh, Mr. Pierce, nice to see you." Jesse says all too happily. "Have you met my brother Geoffrey Gordon St. James?"

I lunge out but Holly grabs my waist from behind, whispering calming words into my ear.

"You'" I say pointing at Geoffrey, "You're fired. And you," I say pointing at Jesse, "This isn't over."

Holly drags me to the administration tent and we tell them how Britt's bike was tampered with. The board agrees to disqualify Jesse and restart the race. Unfortunately, Britt can't race for six weeks so she's out, too. There's nothing I can do about that one, and as a father there is nothing more heartbreaking than having to tell your kid they can't have something that they've wanted for so long and have worked so hard for. That St. James family, on the other hand, well, they're another story.

* * *

I'm at my office the next day doing paperwork when there's a knock on the door. "Come in" I say.

Santana steps in and stands against the door after shutting it, hands clasped in front of her. It's a nervous habit of hers, I've noticed.

"What can I do for you, Santana?"

"Uh, well, I've been saving up for a car of my own and I'm almost there. I just need a little more to get the one I want. I was wondering if there was any way I can pick up some extra hours?"

I put the pen to my lips and lean back in a thinky position.

"Well, you and Puck are getting paid to take over Brittany's hours while she's out, but there is an opening that I think you could benefit from."

"Great!" she says, "I'll take it."

I chuckle. "I haven't even told you what it is yet," I say raising an eyebrow.

"Oh right," She says blushing in embarrassment.

"Meet me here, 8 AM sharp tomorrow, and I'll teach you the ropes. Don't let me down, Lopez. I'm counting on you."

"Okay. 8 AM sharp. Got it. Thank you so much Mr. Pierce" she says doing a little jump.

"No problem, Santana, now get to work. I'm paying you by the hour to stand around and do happy dances." I warn teasingly

"Yes Sir," she replies, giving me a salute like Brittany does before walking out of the office with a grin that matches mine.

* * *

**Phew! Okay. That was a long one. Don't be afraid to tell me what you think. I'm all ears. See you Sunday my little birds :)**


	4. Chapter 4: The Assignment

**Thanks for the reviews my little birds. To Guest, I'm sorry but no, Mr. Pierce is not going to teach Santana how to ride in this fic; but it was such an interesting idea that I decided to make a one-shot out of it. It's called **_**Rider's Girlfriend**_**. Check it out. **

**Mr. Pierce's name is James, so if I refer to that, it's him. **

**Sorry for not updating yesterday, I've just been really busy with midterms.**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter. **

* * *

_James POV_

There's a knock on my door at 7:59 A.M. I smile at Santana's eagerness.

"Come in," I yell out.

She comes in still in her street clothes.

"Morning Mr. Pierce," she says.

"Good morning, Santana. How are you today?"

"Good, Sir, and yourself?" she replies.

"Good, good. Let's get started, shall we? Why don't you go change into overalls and meet me back here?"

"Sure, I'll go do that," she says turning out the door.

She comes back in a light blue jumpsuit tied around the waist, a small black tank top that shows some midriff, old vans, hair tied back, and a rag hanging out her back pocket.

"All ready," she says with a grin.

"Okay, follow me," I say leading her to a room in the back of the shop.

"Woah," she says in awe when I show her the racing room.

Racing murals are painted on any available space. On the left wall there's five shelves of trophies taking up one side of the wall. On the other side there's medals hanging in an orderly fashion from Britt's first race to her most recent. On the long wall adjacent from us, there's tools galore and a workbench of a bed of an old truck coming out the wall. On the right wall there was a bike rack with bikes ranging from small to big coming forward, on the end was Britt's most recent bike, totaled in the accident.

"Britt did this all by herself," I say.

"If racing doesn't work out, she should go into interior design," Santana jokes.

"Uh, y-yeah," I stutter nervously scratching the back of my neck.

She senses my nervousness but doesn't comment. "So, what is my next assignment?" she asks with a chirp in her voice.

"Well, while I find out a way to get Brittany back in the competition, I'm going to need someone dedicated and trustworthy to fix her bike and possibly become her mechanic?" I say looking at her hopefully.

"That's really sweet that you chose me, Mr. Pierce. But I don't know much about bikes. I'm not sure how much of a help I can be," she says dejectedly.

"Well, you've got time to learn and I'm sure Puck can help you. He's been around Britt long enough to have picked up on some stuff. And," I sigh, "I know that you're not doing this because you need a car. I see the way you look at my daughter, you want to get to know her. And honestly, Britt could use a good influence like you in her life."

"Oh, wow, ok, um, sure. Thank you," she replies honestly.

"You're welcome," I say with a nod, "If you need me at any point, I'll be in my office," I turn to leave.

"Wait!" she calls out. I turn back around.

"How - How is Brittany?" she asks hesitantly.

"She's okay. Bored out of her mind the girl is, but I'm glad she has to take some time off. She's been so stressed lately. I think it's happening again. Which is why I need you to gain her trust and look out for her. You're her last hope Santana. I'll see you around," I walk away not looking back.

* * *

_Santana POV_

What's happening again? I think to myself. Why am I her last hope? Is she okay? Is this what Puck was talking about?

Ugh, I sigh frustrated. Might as well get to work.

I pull the hatch down from the work bench and hop onto the bed of the truck so that my legs are dangling off. I spend hours googling motocross: what it's about, the history of it, what races are like, videos, tips, and most importantly, the bikes. I'm scooted against the wall with my legs stretched out in front of me watching jumps when Puck walks in startling me. He holds up a Wawa bag as I remove an ear bud and pause the video.

"Lunch" he says hopping up and copying my position.

"Thanks," I say grabbing my food.

We eat for a few minutes, halfway through he starts to question me.

"What are you doing in here," he asks.

"Mr. P wants me to be Brittany's mechanic," I reply.

"Why?" he asks.

I shrug. "Don't know. I asked for extra hours and he said this was an opening that he thought would suit me."

"You know nothing about bikes," he states.

"No shit. Hence Google," I say gesturing to the phone in my lap.

It's silent for a moment. He's thinking.

"I saw Britt today," he says quietly.

"Oh yeah?" I arch an eye brow.

He clears his throat. "She asked for you. . . "

I say nothing.

"What's going on with you two, Tana?"

I shrug again. "She intrigues me. And you said that I should get to know her, so that's what I'm doing."

"Just. . . just be careful, alright. Britt's been through a lot. I don't want EITHER of you getting hurt," with that he takes his trash and leaves me with my thoughts. Again.

I shake my head and go back to eating. Putting my earbud back in, I resume the video and let my thoughts go for the while.

* * *

_Brittany POV_

I've been sitting at home all day bored to death. I can't do much with one arm and it's slowing killing me. I've tried watching movies, going for a run, playing Flappy Bird, but nothing is working.

Dad told me not to come to the shop because I'd be too tempted to do something, but I can't take it any longer. I need to be doing something.

I slip on my chucks with some difficulty. Luckily the shop is in walking distance, because there is no way I would be able to get there by car or motorcycle.

It's a beautiful day out. The sun is shining, there aren't many clouds in the sky, and the weather is quite warm for October. I soak up the feeling and the scenery strolling to the shop.

I smile when I see a few kids playing happily and carefree in the street. So naive and innocent. They don't have any worries, no troubles. They just _are_. They can just _be_.

I would give anything to keep them that way.

I shake my head and keep moving. I can't think about that right now, or ever. It's already started happening again.

It's unusually quiet in the shop. I can see Puck and others working diligently on some cars. I walk into my dad's office without knocking. He's on the phone and sticks his pointer finger up.

"Doug, I'm gonna have to call you back," he says into the line.

"Thanks, you too," he hangs up.

"Britt, what can I do for ya?" he asks.

I shrug. "I got bored. I figured there's gotta be something I can do around here."

"Britt, honey, I'm saying this as nice as possible. Please go back home. There really isn't anything for you to do here. Why don't you call someone and hang out," he suggests.

I roll my eyes. "Not in the mood, dad. I'm just gonna go to the racing room and chill so that I'm out of everyone's way."

"No!" he shouts jumping up. "I mean, no, why don't you stay here and help me with paperwork?" he suggests.

"I think I'm gonna pass on that one," I say turning to walk out.

He runs after me and steps in front of me, blocking my path either way.

"What's going on dad? I'm not going to do anything, I swear. I've learned my lesson," I say brushing passed him.

"Britt, I don't think that's the best. . . "

"Idea" he says stopping at the door behind me.

Santana scrambles up from the back of the truck and looks at me shocked.

I storm out, pushing passed my dad and ignoring the calls of Santana and him behind me. The workers stop and stare at me rushing passed them but I don't stop. Tears blur my vision, I just keep running. I run all the way to the park and stop at the bench in front of the duck pond to catch my breath.

I bury my face in my hands and let the silent tears flow out.

* * *

_Santana POV_

I cautiously sit on the other end of the bench next to Brittany. I stare out at the pond while she cries and it breaks my heart.

I try to scoot closer to her, whispering, "Britt?"

"Stop," she says putting up her hand in my direction.

I frown and turn back to face the pond.

"I'm sorry," I say.

She shakes her head. "You don't understand," she whispers.

"Then help me understand."

"It's not that simple, Santana," she tells me still refusing to make eye contact.

"What's you favorite color, Brittany?" I ask.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question," I encourage.

"Purple."

"Mine's red. Do you have a favorite flower?"

"Daisies," she says.

"I like sunflowers. As a little kid, what did you want to be when you grow up?"

"Happy," she replies so quietly I almost don't hear it.

" I wanted to be a princess," I say chuckling, "But happy sounds good, too. Maybe I can be a happy princess, what do you think?"

She looks at me and gives me a small smile. "You're too beautiful to be a princess, you'd have to be the queen."

"Is that so?" She nods. "Well, there can't be two queens so I'd let you be the queen and I would be your best friend."

"Trying to sweet talk me Lopez?" she asks.

"Depends. Is it working?" I ask.

"Nope," she says trying not to smile.

I look around and spot some flowers close by.

"I'll be right back," I say jumping up and running to the flowers. I can feel her eyes on the back of me curiously. I pick a few flowers and tie them together with a long blade of grass.

I get down on one knee and present the flowers to her.

"Would the fairest maiden in all the land give me the honor of going on a date with me?" I ask in faux old English.

* * *

_Brittany POV_

_"Would the fairest maiden in all the land give me the honor of going on a date with me?" she asks in faux old English._

I can feel it happening again.

My throat goes dry and constricts.

My eyes sting and blur my vision.

My chest tightens and it's getting harder and harder to breathe.

My ears are ringing. I'm losing consciousness.

Santana's hands on my shoulders are numb to me. Her voice is muffled. My heart is pounding.

I can feel the blood rushing through my veins in my body.

I'm drifting into unconsciousness when I feel a pair of lips on mine.

I kiss back because it's the only thing keeping me awake. Her lips are soft and she tastes like ham and pickles.

It's like she's breathing life into me. My ears stop ringing and I can start to feel her hands on me. My chest loosens and I can breathe out my nose with ease. I can feel the stinging in my eyes fade the longer she kisses me. The blood flowing through me slows back to an even pace until I can no longer feel it.

She pulls back and I cautiously open my eyes. She's shocked at herself. Her eyes are wide and she brings a hand up to touch her lips as if it wasn't real.

"I. . . I'm so sorry," she stutters out.

"It's okay," I whisper.

"No it's not," she stands up and starts pacing, hands on her temples. "I just kissed you. Unprovoked. Without permission. I'm going to get fired. You're dad is going to hate me. You are going to hate me. Puck is going to hate me. Oh God he's going to kick me out of his home and I'm going to have no place to go. He's all I have left, I can't let that happen, I just can't. . . ." she says sobbing.

I slowly walk over to her and pull her into my arms. She tries to fight me off but I don't let go. I caress her hair with one hand and whisper comforting words in her ear until she calms down.

"No one's going to let you be alone Santana. I've got you. I'm not letting you go."

She relaxes in my arms and buries her tear stained face in my neck.

"Santana, there's something I need to tell you," I say.

* * *

**Cliff hanger! Dun Dun Dun. . . Thoughts?**


	5. Chapter 5: The Truth Comes Out

**Heavy chapter. You've been warned. **

* * *

**Santana POV**

"Santana, there's something I need to tell you," she says holding me with her good arm.

"Okay," I whimper into her neck.

"Once I tell you, you can decide if you still want to date me, but I'll understand if you won't. Let's go somewhere more private," she says softly.

I wipe my tears when she lets me go and I miss her warmth already.

She leads me out of the park and I tentatively reach for her available hand across her body. She doesn't pull away and I smile a little. Her hand is warm and soft and comforting. We walk in silence to her house and she lets go of my hand at the doorstep to pull a key from her back pocket.

"My room's the first door on the left upstairs," she says shutting the door behind me. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Just water please," I tell her.

"Okay, you go up I'll be right there."

Her room wasn't what I was expecting it to be. Not that I've thought about it, because I haven't. It's not as badass as one would have imagined. It was pale yellow, dark hardwood floors, a big queen bed in the middle with a white comforter and some purple pillows, two nightstands, one with a yellow lamp, the other filled with knick knacks, pictures hung on the wall, there was a door for a closet and a door leading to a bathroom, her dressers were against the next to the entrance, and there was a big window in the middle of the back wall facing the backyard with a window seat attached to it.

I take a seat on her bed and admire the pictures on the walls while I wait.

She comes back and places two water bottles on an end table.

"Thanks," I say silently.

She sits next to me on the bed in the same crossed legged position but keeps a considerably amount of distance.

She fiddles with her thumbs nervously so I keep my space and wait for her to speak. Even with her head down I can see the defined curve of her nose, her elongated eye lashes, her freckle dusted cheeks, and the undertones of her blonde hair.

"I have panic attacks," she says gulping. "They started when I was seven, the year I met Puck. He was there when the first one happened. It was the anniversary of the day my mom walked out. He walked me home from school because his mom and my dad said we could have a play date at my house. When I got home my dad wasn't there. I thought he had left me too. My chest tightens. My vision blurs. I hear ringing in my ears. It gets hard for me to breathe. I can literally feel my blood pumping through my veins. My eyes sting. I slowly slip into unconsciousness and that's how they stop. I don't have control over my focus. My body gradually goes back to normal while I'm asleep like that. I wake up eventually. And it's like nothing ever happened."

I listen intently. She pauses and breathes in and out, in and out.

"The smoking, the sex, the motocross, they all help. Everyone, even Puck, thinks I just do those things to be cool. But they don't know the half of it."

She's freely crying by now and I have to resist the urge to just hold her. If I move I'm afraid she'll stop talking, and I have a feeling she's been needing to let it all out for quite some time now.

"I don't know what I did wrong," her voice cracks. "She just walked out one night. The night after I won my first race. She was beautiful. Her name was Delilah. Her dad was a racer. That's how she met my dad. My dad was her dad's mechanic and they fell in love. She hated racing though. Her dad died in a race. She begged and begged my dad to stop racing, even when they were married. He finally did when she fell pregnant with me. I guess bringing me into his world is what drove her out. I don't know for sure though. I always thought it was me. At six, you're so young and naive and for a mother to just leave with no explanation. . . she promised she'd come back," she spits angrily, "She never did. My dad shut everyone out for a while. So I blamed myself for her leaving. A year later the panics started happening. I threw myself into racing because I didn't know what to do," she shakes her head. "I've never heard from her since. She could be dead for all I know."

"Tell me more about her," I say.

"She was amazing, the best mom a girl could ask for. She had long sandy blonde hair. Blue eyes that matched mine. She was tall, but not too tall. She had strong arms and gentle hands. She loved me very much. She loved _us_ very much despite everything. She worked as an interior designer for the remodeling company in town. She used to bring home all her projects for me to see and ask if I had any suggestions. She showed me all her favorite movies. She taught me how to dance. We used to push the couch in the live room against the wall and move the coffee table into the hall so that we could just jump around and act stupid, listening to her and dad's records. He would come home from working the shop and join us, despite his smelliness," she says crinkling her nose cutely. "We were a normal happy family. Why wasn't that enough Santana? Why wasn't I enough?" she asks looking at me for the first time.

I move next to her and wrap my arms around her carefully avoiding her injury, leaning her head on my shoulder as she sobs and I place my chin atop her head like a mother would a kid. I rub circles on her back but she only cries harder.

"I'll never leave you Brittany. Never ever. I still want to date you. I can help you. It's going to be okay. It's all going to be okay. I'm going to get you through this. You are more than enough Brittany Pierce. Listen to me. Look at me," I say placing my pointer finger under her chin and coaxing her up, "You," kiss to the right cheek, "are," kiss to the left cheek, "MORE," kiss to the chin, "than," kiss to the nose, "enough," tender kiss to the forehead. "You are so much more Brittany. You deserve to be happy. You deserve all the happiness in the world. And if you'd let me, I'd like to be the one to give it to you."

She slowly leans in and places her lips to mine cautiously. I can taste her salty tears in a kiss so passionate and so right, I find myself adding salty tears to the mix.

"Why are you crying?" she asks softly pulling away to wipe my tears with her thumb.

I lie down on my back and she follows suit.

"Do you know why I'm here Britt?" I ask.

"I wanted to talk. . . " she states, but it comes out more of a question.

"Yes, but do you know why I'm _here_ here. Like, In Lima here?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No," she replies.

I turn on my side and she does the same on her good shoulder so that we're face to face.

I stare into her captivating cerulean eyes and forget to speak.

"You're beautiful," I say quietly and honestly.

"Santana. . . " she says in a warning manner.

I sigh. "My, my parents died. In September," I begin shakily. "My dad was a d-doctor and his co-workers were having a party one night. Him and my mom went and I stayed home. The b-building burned down, they were trapped inside. Four others died that night. I was devastated. The only person who could take care of me there was my abuela, but she didn't want me cause I'm gay. Puck, Puck was all I had left. And his little sister Tammy. You know how his parents are. So he took me in and has tried to be like a big brother to me. I knew about cars because my dad had a red camaro that he used restored when I was younger. I didn't have many friends, so he taught me all about cars just like his father did with him. I still have the car, the camaro, I mean. My best friend, Quinn, keeps it in her garage. I plan to go back and get it when senior year is over," I finish quietly.

The tears are sticky against my neck and cheeks, but like Brittany, this is my first time talking about it. Not even Quinn or Noah could get me to say a word.

When I'm with Brittany, she makes me feel safe and I feel like I could trust her with my life and she'd have my back. We need each other, maybe more than we'd care to admit, but still, we need each other.

"Santana, I like you. A lot. And that scares me. A lot. I'm not going to change overnight, that's, like, impossible. But I think I'd be willing to try for you. Puck is having a Halloween party like he does every year. We could go out to dinner before hand, and I could take you there as my date, if that's okay?" she says unusually small.

"Okay," I nod, "I like you, too Britt. We can take things slow. We're both. . . damaged," I pause, "but I think we can get through this. Together," I reply giving her a small smile.

She pulls me in with one arm and I wrap both mine around her. We just hold each other for a while. Letting everything sink in.

A door opens from downstairs and she pulls away. "That's my dad," she says disappointingly.

"Brittany?" he calls out. "You home munchkin?"

"Upstairs dad," she yells.

He comes up and sees us lying next to each other.

"Santana, nice to see you," he says.

"You too, Mr. Pierce," I say awkwardly.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" he asks.

I look at Brittany and see her nodding excitedly.

"Sure," I reply with a smile.

"Great, I'll make pasta. How does that sound?"

"Good," Brittany and I reply at the same time.

Mr. Pierce smiles knowingly and leaves us as we burst into laughter.

* * *

Dinner is light hearted and anything but uncomfortable. Mr. Peirce is an excellent cook. Britt and I push him out of the kitchen because he keeps refusing to let us do the dishes. I wash and Britt dries awkwardly with one hand, pouting the entire time.

"Awe, Britt, just six more weeks," I coo, "Then you'll be all better," I say giving a quick kiss to her pouty lips. Her eyes wide comically and she checks to make sure her dad wasn't looking.

He pretends like he wasn't, but says, "As long as there's no sex in my kitchen, I don't care," nonchalantly. Britt and I blush shyly. She's no stranger to sex, but is embarrassed because it's her dad. Me on the other hand, not so much. I've kissed plenty of girls back at my old school, but I've never actually gone all the way. I've never had enough of a relationship to find someone special enough to lose it to.

"We're going to go watch a movie," she says dragging me upstairs.

"Use protection!" he calls out playfully, chuckling to himself when Brittany groans in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry about him," she say when we get into her room.

"S'fine," I shrug. "He's actually really cool. My dad would've done the same thing."

She frowns sadly at me before turning to her movie collection.

"Take your pick. Anything but Tarzan," she says.

I don't mention it, she'll let it out when she wants.

"How about mean girls, that always cheered me up when I needed a laugh," I say.

"Mean Girls it is," she says grinning.

I kick of my shoes and lay back on the bed. Brittany boldly lies against my front and wraps my arms around herself. I tense at first but then relax in her hold.

I place a delicate kiss atop her head and she presses play snuggling into me.

She falls asleep halfway through the movie, so I turn it off and gently remove myself from her. I turn off the bedside light and crawl into bed next to her after removing my work uniform and finding an oversized t-shirt in one of her drawers. It smells like her. Like peaches and Brittany. The soft fabric and comforting smell lulls me into a deep sleep with my head on her shoulder and one arm strewn across her torso.


	6. Chapter 6: Grease and Gin

**Brittany POV**

I wake up Sunday morning to a cold bed. I start to panic. My eyes are darting around the room and my breathing becomes labored as I clutch my blanket to my chest. Santana comes darting in and drops whatever is in her hands to wrap her arms around me.

"Britt Britt. It's me Santana. I'm right here. I'm here. I'm not going to leave you," she plants a reassuring kiss to my lips. I pull her back in when she pulls away. She leans her forehead against mine and whispers, "I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking. I'm not going anywhere."

I hug her tightly and sink into her embrace. We're silent. I listen as our breathing goes back to normal, but I can feel her heart pounding against my chest.

"Where did you go?" I ask.

She pulls away and reaches over to the bedside table to grab a bag.

"Breakfast?" she asks holding McDonalds.

I grin and nod happily. She kicks off her shoes and makes herself comfortable next to me so she can dish out the food. We eat in a silent bliss, sharing one coffee just the way we both like it. It feels domestic.

It scares me. Santana scares me. Well, not Santana, per say, but the thought of her. She's beautiful, caring, understanding. . . everything I've ever dreamed of having in a girl. I'm afraid I'm going to fuck this up, too. She's too good for me.

"Whatcha thinkin bout, princess?" she asks.

"You," I reply honestly.

She blushes slightly.

"What about me?" she continues.

I duck my head. "That you're too good for me and that you deserve someone who isn't a fuck up," I mumble.

She puts her food down and scoots over to me so that our thighs are touching. She tangles our fingers together on my good hand and stares at my profile intently.

"You're not a fuck up," she says softly but firmly.

I scoff and shake my head.

"I'm serious Brittany. You're not a fuck up. You're a beautiful young woman who has a successful job, is passionate about her hobbies, has a lot going for her, has a loving dad, a crazy ass but caring best friend. . . and a hot date with a wonderful girl who doesn't think she's a fuck up," she tells me.

"She's so humble, too," I say letting a small smile slip out.

"Damn right, I am. But in all honesty Britt, I'm not too good for you. We're just right for each other. Even if we don't work out, we can still be friends. I'll always be here for you. Pinky Promise. And everyone knows Santana Lopez does not break her promises," she tells me sticking detaching our hands but still keeping our pinkies linked.

"You are wonderful Santana. I just wanted to let you know," I say quietly resting my head on her shoulder.

She kisses my head affectionately.

"What are you going to dress up as for Halloween," she asks subtly changing the subject.

"I have the perfect idea," I say grinning and jumping ungracefully out of bed.

* * *

Monday morning is kind of awkward. Puck pulls up out front like normal but instead of shotgun I climb in the back with a half awake Santana.

"Coffee?" I ask offering one to her with my good hand.

She pushes my hand back and reaches for the other coffee in my bag.

"Yours tastes better," she says taking a sip.

I chuckle, "Whatever you say, Princess," and take a sip of mine.

I can see Puck giving us daggers through the mirror but I shrug it off. He pulls away without a word and it stays that way until we get to school. Santana and I sneaking glances at each other the whole way.

I rush out to open her door for her when we arrive at school and she blushes shyly at me. Puck angrily slams his door and walks passed us without a word.

Santana arches an eyebrow at me but I just shrug it off. I hesitantly grab her hand and intertwine our fingers, enjoying the contrast of creamy vanilla and rich caramel that blend so well together.

Santana cheeses at me and I grin back. We get stares as we walk to our lockers, as to be expected. It doesn't bother me as much as it should, but I can tell the attention makes Santana uncomfortable.

"Ignore them, they just don't trust what they can't explain," I whisper into her ear.

She gulps and nods. I hold my head high as we reach our lockers. She lets go of my hand to open her locker and I do the same.

Luckily nobody dares to say anything about us, but that doesn't mean the looks don't stop. That is, until Rachel Berry gets a slushie facial. I can see Puck smirking and high fiving his football buddies at the end of the hallway.

"You go help Rachel, I'll go talk to Puck," I encourage Santana. She nods and walks off.

"What the hell was that for?" I ask grabbing Pucks shoulder and spinning him around to face me.

"Come on, Britt, we've been hitting the Hobbit with these things since freshman year. And besides, you should be thanking me, now nobody is going to stare at you and Santana and make her fidgety. You're welcome," he says brushing passed me.

I clench my fist and sigh frustratingly.

* * *

I don't see Santana much during the week, other than school, because she's working hard at the shop and my dad won't let me be there because I'm "a distraction." His words, not mine. We text nonstop whenever we can, though.

I've been avoiding Puck and I'm pretty sure he's been giving me the same treatment. It hurts though. We've been best friends since we were tikes, but now it's like I'm nonexistent to him. I'll have to ask him about it at the party tonight if I can.

Santana walks around to get me so that we can walk to the party together, since technically I can't drive and she doesn't have a car here.

"Wow," I say after opening the door and finding her standing there in red pumps, tight black leather pants, tight black off the shoulder top, hair curled, and smokey eyes and red lipstick accentuating her best features.

"Tell me about it, stud," she husks sexily.

My mouth goes dry and I continue to gape at her shamelessly.

She giggles at my inability to form words.

"You don't look too bad yourself there, Zuko," she says poking me playfully in the stomach.

I'm in light ripped skinny jeans, black chucks, a white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up halfway, my signature leather jacket, and hair slicked back into a sleek ponytail.

She told me Grease was her favorite movie, who was I to deny the opportunity?

"Thanks," I say blushing.

She swings our hands humming happily as we walk to the party. She's so cute, I think to myself. We had to skip the dinner part when an emergency came up at the shop and she was the only one who knew how to fix it. My girl's so smart. I mean, uh, she's so smart. I have to ask her first. Then she'll be my girl, cause there's no way she can say no to all this. I tell myself smirking.

The party is of course in full swing when we arrive. All high school parties are the same if you ask me, but whatever. I've got a rep to protect.

Santana leads me to the kitchen and pours us each a drink. It's good, but I have no fucking idea what it is.

"Gin sunrise, orange juice and lemon," she tells me.

"I like it," I say grinning stupidly.

She giggles and rolls her eyes, "Of course you do, sunshine. Let's go dance," she says pulling me towards the living room.

The dance floor is kind of crowded because there are so many people in ridiculous costumes like whoopie coushins, ketchup bottles, sumo wrestlers, and so on. Then there are the typical teenage sluts in lingerie and kitty ears or slutty referee tops. I was never one to go along with that; Halloween was always a time to be someone else for a night not just be a naked version of myself.

I learned that Santana gets more confident, and _handsy_ when she drinks. She's practically dry humping me to the tune of "Grind On Me" Pretty Ricky.

She turns around and slides down my body seductively, slowly bringing her ass back up and rubbing into my crotch. Thank god I'm not a dude, I say out loud. She smirks and turns back into my arms, slipping a thigh between my legs and making me gasp.

"Mmm, you're so hot Britt," she slurs into my ear.

"Come on, Santana, you're drunk," I say steadying her and guiding her to the back yard.

"Stay here," I say firmly and setting her down on the porch swing.

"Mmkay, Britts, don't be long," she says all giggly.

She's sobbing when I come back out. I rush to her side.

"Santana what's wrong?"

"The squirrel wouldn't play with me," she says hiccupping and pointing to the tree.

"I'm sorry sweetie," I coo handing her a bottle of water, "Here, drink this."

"You're so nice, Britty," she says.

I tense beside her. Nobody's called me that since. . .

She snuggles into my side and rests her head on my shoulder, closing her eyes.

"And comfy," she says in a daze.

I let her rest on me and drown out the loud music coming from inside. She shivers so I put my leather jacket around her shoulders the best I can with one arm.

She wraps it around her body then curls back into me again.

"Why do you always wear this Britt? It's so worn out, you should get a new one," she says matter-of-factly.

"It was my mom's," I say quietly. "It was all she left behind, besides me and my dad, of course. It was her riding jacket. She would wear it when my dad begged her to go riding on his motorcycle. It was just sitting in her closet, the lone item, when I peeked into their room one day. So I took it."

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"It's okay," I shrug. "It looks good on you."

She hides her face in my neck. I kiss her forehead.

"Aww, look at the little dykes. Sharing leather and a porch swing. How cute? Right Tiff," Stephanie spits to her little minion. As predicted, she's wearing black Victoria's Secret, fishnet leggings, heeled knee high boots, and black cat ears. Her arms are folded across her stomach, trying to push her boobs up further than her bra.

"Totes adorbs, Stephie," the girl says mockingly, "Don't get too close, you might catch cooties."

"Aww, How cute!" I say back in the same sarcastic manner, "Then you'll have cooties and herpes. It's a gift that keeps on giving!"

I feel Santana smirk into my neck. Her arms tighten around my waist and I smirk arrogantly at the two bitches in front of me.

"Why don't you run along and find someone willing to trade diseases with you, because my cooties belong to Santana and Santana only now."

"Whatever, you'll be begging to have me back when you're done with your little virgin play thing," she says pathetically before flipping her hair and leaving.

"She doesn't mean it, does she?" Santana asks in a small voice.

"Of course, not, honey, I could never get tired of you. You're amazing. I would kiss you all day if I could. And so what if you've never had sex before, I admire that about you. And I'm willing to wait for as long as you need me to. When you're ready, it'll happen and it'll be special, and romantic, and magical and I'll hold you the whole way through."

She kisses me hard but pulls back far too quickly for my liking.

"Be my girlfriend?" she asks.

"Only if you be mine?"

"Yes," she whispers kissing me again. And again. And again. And again.

* * *

**Uh oh, the drama begins. Will a jealous Stephanie be able to tear Brittany and Santana apart? What do you think? Review if you have the chance, I love reading your feedback!**


	7. Ch 7: Save the Princess, Get the Girl

**Sorry I've been really busy with basketball and school. This is just a quick chapter that gives us insight into Santana's thoughts. The plot will pick back up in the next chapter. Update will come on Sunday, I promise!**

**Santana POV**

I couldn't be happier with my life right now. It feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Brittany is the best thing that's ever happened to me. She's so amazing. She's caring, and supportive, and funny, and just, beautiful. Her lips are addictive and when I'm in her arms, right now just arm, I feel safe, like nothing can touch me. I wish she could see herself the way I see her. I worry about her. She's got history and I'd do anything to stop her from hurting. I want to talk to her about getting help for her anxiety and talking to a therapist about her past, but I'm afraid she'll push me away. I'll give it more time and maybe I'll come up with a good plan on how to approach her on it.

Then there's that queerio slut Stephanie. Of course I trust Britt, and I'd hope she'd never cheat on me, but this bitch is not someone I'd wanna do a trust fall with.

Brittany is so peaceful when she sleeps. It's like she's in a whole nother world when she dreams. I'm watching her right now, but not in a creepy sort of way. It's more like admiring her, committing every detail to memory as if it was my last time seeing her. I count the freckles that dust her cheeks; she likes to hide them, says they're "childish" but I think they're cute and I love Brittany without make-up. She's the sunshine of my life, so that's what I call her. She took habit to calling me Princess, but I guess I should've seen that one coming.

It's been four weeks since the Halloween party. So far, the cheerio's residential whores have left us alone, but I can see Stephanie lusting after my girl and that's not okay. Britt and her dad invited Puck, Tammy, and I over for Thanksgiving. Luckily Puck and Britt worked out their differences. Puck was afraid that he would lose Brittany if she started dating me, but Britt reassured him that they'd always be besties and she'd always have time for him. I got to witness Britt interact with Tammy, that girl is going to be a great mom someday.

Britt's sling comes off in two weeks, and she'll have to do some rehab, but she should be good to go by the new year. James has secretly been working on a way to get Britt back into the race, and I'm pretty sure he has. I'm almost finished the restoration and remaking of Britt's bike, which I still have yet to tell her about. I can only hope that she isn't mad at me. I've learned so much about racing and motocross since I've started and it's a great addition to my book of knowledge. Mechanics have been good to me over the years, but my dream is to become a teacher. I've gotta talk to Britt about college soon. I've been tutoring her and her grades are improving immensely. She's almost stopped skipping classes, and her smoking habits have declined tremendously.

The thing I've noticed most since I've started dating Brittany is her eyes. I've accidently discovered pictures of her as a kid and her eyes were brighter than the stars in the sky. When I first met Britt, her eyes were dull and on the verge of grey. There was so much hurt and anguish and sadness and caution in her pupils, but recently her eyes have come alive. They're vibrant like a fresh picked blueberry. The rims of her eyes widen a little bit and her eyes turn a darker shade of blue when she's turned on. We haven't gone all the way yet, but we've got time. Britt is so understanding and gentle. She doesn't get mad at me for chickening out when her hand travels down my stomach over my shirt and I have to tell her to stop. That doesn't stop her from being her overly confident and flirty self though.

Britt's playful around me, a side she'd never let anyone else see, except maybe her dad, but I think she's making up for the time she lost as a kid. I love it though, she makes me feel like a kid, too. We recently went out to get ice-cream then went to the park where she insisted she push me on the swing and hold me as we went down the slide together. Some of the kids there, who are now our little friends, played tag with us, and hide and go seek, and Britt promised some of the little girls that she would teach them monkey bars when her sling comes off.

"I just wanted to let you know, that no matter what anyone tells you, the love you and your girlfriend have is beautiful, and priceless. Don't let that one get away," said the mom sitting on the bench next to me watching her kids chase Brittany around and bouncing a baby on her leg.

"I. . . t-thank you," I stuttered out blushing.

Love? Did I love Brittany yet? I think I do.

She looked up at me and grinned that wicked grin she has when she gets an idea. I watched as she leant down and whispered to the kids who nodded.

One little boy came over to me and asked me to go the castle with him. I took his little hand in mine and followed as he lead me to the jungle gym.

"No Princess, don't go it's a trap," one little girl named Cassy yelled out.

The little boy told me to sit in the tunnel and laughed wickedly.

"Silly Princess, welcome to the dungeon. You're my wife now," he said in mock malice.

"We have to go save the princess," Britt yelled out.

Her army of tikes grabbed sticks and rushed toward "The Dungeon." They "Slayed," the dragon and climbed across, "The Bridge of Doom," until they were face to face with the little boy, "Sir Prince Harry," who had his hands folded across his chest and was "guarding me."

He and Britt stared each other down circling each other on the platform of the play set.

Britt lunged first, purposely missing the little boy completely.

I screamed in fake horror and pleaded for Brittany to save me.

The crowd of munchkins around her cheered her on. The kid and her went back and forth, purposely missing each other to extend the battle. They feigned exhaustion.

Finally, Britt stuck the stick next to the boy's side and he pinned it with his arm to make it look like Brittany had stuck it through his side. He collapsed to the ground and said, "I'm dead."

I held back a giggle at his cuteness. Brittany helped me out of the tunnel and I pretended to be relieved and grateful for her savior.

"Kiss, kiss, kiss," the kids around us chanted.

I pecked her on the cheek and the kids groaned.

"A real kiss, on the lips. Everyone knows that the knight always gets the girl and then she kisses him on the lips to show him how much she loves him and is happy he saved her," said Harry.

Britt looked at me questioningly and I just shrugged. We both leaned in. I captured her top lip between mine and wrapped arms around her waist. She ducked me with her good arm and the kids around us clapped and whistled.

She pulled me back up and suddenly, it was just me and her. There weren't kids surrounding us, no mothers, no crying babies, no sound. Just me and her.

"I love you," I whisper.

"I love you too," she whispers back without hesitation.

We're both smiling like idiots and just staring at each other. A chorus of "awww's," break us from our trance and we both pull back blushing.

"Okay, kids, it's time for me and Santana to go home, and I'm sure your parents want you home for dinner, too. But we'll see you soon, okay?" Britt tells them.

They pout but rush to hug her and me. We wave to the kids and their parents at the gate before turning down the street in the direction to Puck's house hand in hand.


	8. Chapter 8: All Lima Heights

**Sorry for the mini rant, but I just got a nasty review on one of my other fics, and it's pissing me off. Like, okay, I appreciate the constructive criticism, but if you think it's "horrible" at least tell me why and what I could do to fix or improve it. And don't hide behind an anonymous, have the balls to use your screen name. Ugh. Sorry. Rant over.**

**Adult content ensues. Read at your own risk.**

**And PS all mistakes are mine :P**

* * *

_Brittany Pov_

Santana is working on a car underneath me. I'm sitting on the trunk swinging my legs back and forth while she does her thang. I'm wearing a shit eating grin. I've honestly never been happier in my life. Santana told me she loves me and I said it back. I've only got a week left in this sling before I start rehab where my supportive girlfriend is going to be there for me every step of the way. God she is so perfect. Christmas is coming up soon and I have to get her the perfect gift because she deserves the best.

"Britt, hand me the wrench please?" she asks from under the car.

I skip to the tool box and grab the wrench, then skip back to her and slide it under.

"Thanks babe," she says.

I nudge her leg with my foot and she rolls out.

"What?" she asks.

I shrug, "I like it when you call me babe," I tell her.

"You wheeled me out just to tell me that?" she chuckles.

I shrug playfully.

"You're such a goof, _babe_," she says wheeling back under.

I go back to kicking my legs off the side of the car and humming.

We make small talk about school and stuff while she works. Finally her shift is over and the car is finished just in time. Just as she's clocking out, my dad comes out of his office and spots us.

"Girls, glad I caught you," he says walking over to us. "I'm going out for drinks with some of my friends tonight, so you have the house to yourselves. No parties," he warns, "Here's some money for dinner, be good," he says directed at Brittany as he hands her some cash.

"No promises," she teases flashing him a shit eating grin.

He rolls his eyes and goes back to work.

"So, what do you want to eat?" I ask on the walk home.

She ponders for a moment.

"Enchiladas," she replies.

I pout. "I can't make those."

"C'mon, let's go to the store and get ingredients," she says tugging me in the opposite direction, "I'll teach you."

* * *

"Brittany Pierce you did not just throw flour at me!" she screeches through a mouth full of flour.

"Oops?" I say teasingly.

She throws a cup of salsa at me and it hits square in the chest.

"Oops?" she says mocking me.

"Oh that's it!" I say. Ingredients fly around the kitchen as we circle the island counter and try to avoid getting hit.

We're covered in sour cream and shredded cheese and lettuce and chopped onions and chicken shreds and just to put the icing on the cake, I wrap her up in my one armed hold as she squirms against me.

She gives up and wraps her arms around my waist, leaning her food covered face on my food covered shoulder.

We both laugh.

"Pizza?" she asks.

"Yeah, we can order pizza," I tell her still laughing.

She pecks my cheek before pulling back.

"I need a shower," she announces obviously, "I'm all sticky," she says sticking her tongue out at me.

We shower separately. The doorbell rings while we're cleaning up.

"I'll get it," I say setting down the rag and walking leisurely to the door.

"Stephanie?" I question to the clearly tipsy girl swaying on my porch.

She rudely pushes passed me and into my house. Finding the living room, she plops herself onto the couch and sets a bottle of whiskey on the coffee table.

I cross my arm across my chest, "You need to leave," I say firmly, my eyes daggering.

"What's going on," Santana asks walking into the room.

"What's she doing here," Santana sneers at the brunette on the couch.

I put my arm around Santana's waist to calm her down and she relaxes a bit at my touch.

Stephanie sits up on the edge of my couch and laughs drunkenly.

"You think you're so cool don't you," she slurs at Santana. "You think you've got it made. A popular football player for a cousin, a "sexy" job, the hottest girl in school is dating you. Well newsflash, charity case, you're nothing. I bet your parents purposely let themselves burn in that fire just so they would've have to. . ."

Stephanie can't even finish her sentence before Santana decks her with a left hook.

"I don't know who you think you are, richie bitch, but listen here and listen good. Brittany *punch* doesn't *punch* love *punch* you *right hook*. And my parents' deaths were an accident. You best be going now, afores I call the cops for trespassing, breaking and entering, driving while intoxicated, and oh yeah, underage drinking. And if you ever as much look at my girl again, I will not hesitate to show you how we deal with pathetic bitches like you in Lima Heights," Santana threatens before walking back into the kitchen.

The little bitch spits blood on my feet when she stumbles out. I roll my eyes at her lame attempt to antagonize me. After washing my feet, I find Santana wiping down the table, everything spotless.

"That was such a turn on," I husk in her ear from behind.

"Oh yeah," she says seductively turning around to face me. "How about this?" she whispers capturing my lips in a deep kiss.

I slide my tongue across her bottom lip when *Ding Dong*

We both groan and pull back.

"Pizza," I whisper against her lips. She nods and gives me one last peck before setting the table while I pay the delivery guy.

"Open up," she says holding a slice folded to my mouth. I oblige. She then proceeds to eat from that same piece, alternating between feeding me and eating for herself. We go on like that through four slices while John Legend plays in the background.

"Dance with me?" I ask holding out my good hand as we merge into the living room.

She takes my hand and we waltz as best as possible around the space.

_You're my end and my beginning  
Even when I lose I'm winning  
'Cause I give you all of me  
And you give me all of you_

I give you all of me  
And you give me all of you, oh oh oh

She sings to me.

"You have a beautiful voice, I could listen to you all day," I tell her and she blushes, hiding her face in my neck.

_Baby tonight's the night I let you know_

_Baby tonight's the night we lose control_

_Baby tonight you need that_

_Tonight believe that_

_Tonight I'll be the best you ever had_

_I don't wanna brag_

_But I'll be _

_The best you ever had_

_I don't wanna brag_

_But I'll be yeah_

_The best you ever had_

I sing softly to her.

She looks me in the eyes, pupils dilated and impossibly darker, "I want you so bad," she whispers, swallowing a gulp.

I lift her up with my good hand and she wraps her legs around my waist letting out a small squeal.

I carry her up to my room and she opens the door. I kick it shut behind me. She's kissing up my neck but I manage to put her gently down on the bed. I climb ungracefully to straddle her hips and she giggles shyly at me. We go slow. I start by kissing her softly. Then with a little more passion. She shoves her tongue in my mouth, demanding dominance. Our tongues dance together in fluid elegance. Her fingertips are scratching lightly where my shirt rode up slightly on my stomach. She gains enough courage to start pulling it up. I help her get me out of it, tossing the sling aside and pulling the one side over my head and sliding the shirt down my injured arm carefully before tossing it too. Her eyes rake over my bra covered upper half. Her hands slide up my stomach cautiously before settling on my boobs. I put my hands atop hers and squeeze encouragingly. She slides her hands around to unhook my bra with nimble fingertips. She gasps at my naked chest and I smirk slightly. She massages my breasts experimentally, making me moan when her fingers tweak my nipples. She leans up and places kisses from my collarbone down to the valley of my breasts. I tug at the bottom of her shirt and she removes it. She unhooks her bra and tosses it somewhere before lying back down and letting me admire her.

"You're beautiful," I whisper and she blushes shyly.

We meet in a searing kiss and I let my hands travel down to her chest, ignoring the pain in my shoulder.

"Oh Britt," she cries, arching into my touch.

I ghost my lips down her neck and suck at her pulse point, leaving a prominent hickey in its wake.

My hands travel downward to settle on her hips and we both moan at the contact of our naked bosoms pressed together. Her breathing turns into pants as I leave a trail of kisses down her stomach.

I look up at her questioningly and she nods, teeth biting her bottom lip. I unbutton her pants slowly and pull them down her legs. I wince at the pain in my shoulder, but ignore it once more. She curls her legs inward to help me get them off, but spreads them wide as I toss them aside. Her panties are soaked. I crawl back up her body and french kiss her eager lips. Her fingernails dig into my hips, silently telling me she needs more. I jump off the bed and undo my pants in record time so that the playing field is even so to speak. She lusts at me stripping for her and smirks seductively. I straddle her once more so that our cores are lined up. She hooks her arms around my neck while we kiss and grinds her hips against mine with need. We both gasp when our centers hit.

"Too much, clothes," she pants out. I nod in agreement.

My hands hook the waistband of her panties and I pull them down teasingly, making her groan.

She does the same to me. I settle carefully on top of her and slowly gyrate my hips down. She meets my thrusts like we've been doing this for months. It's an art really. We're not fucking. We're not even having sex. We're making love. Her slick core slides against mine and the small slap echoes against the walls. One of her hand tangles through my good hand and her other fists the sheet beneath her. We kiss and kiss and kiss. Her clit bumps mine and I cry out.

"I'm close," she whines.

"Me too," I tell her, a bead of sweat forming on my forehead.

I untangle our fingers and hook my hand around her back, pulling her impossibly closer to my body. I take her top lip softly between mine and bite down slightly. With one final roll, her body freezes beneath me and the pressure on my lips increases. I join her seconds later. We ride out our orgasms breathing heavily. She swipes her thumb across my forehead to wipe away the sweat and reciprocates my lazy smile.

I roll next to her so we're side to side on our backs. She turns on her elbow to face me and plants a lingering kiss to my cheek.

"I love you," she says quietly.

"I love you too," I say cheesing.

She snuggles into my side and we drift into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

We're all giddy the next day, still high off our love making. My dad smiles knowingly, and I flip him the bird haphazardly.

San and I are cuddling on the couch in sweats and hoodies (both mine). It begins to snow flurry outside and I grin at Santana who giggles. We're watching some movie on lifetime. Well, she is, I'm watching her. She's so fucking gorgeous, don't judge me.

Her phone rings and she jumps up to get it, purposely swaying her hips knowing that I'm watching her butt as she leaves.

"Hate to see her go, but I love to watch her leave," I call out after her. I hear her laugh but she doesn't turn around. I grin ear to ear before my dad whacks me playfully with a rolled up newspaper. I glare playfully at him while he takes a seat in an armchair and reads his paper unfazed.

Santana comes bounding back into the room and plops down onto my lap.

"What's got you all excited, Princess," I ask amused.

"You remember my friend Quinn? The one I told you about from back home who's babysitting my car?"

"Mmhmm," I mumble with my lips on her shoulder.

"Well, she's coming down for New Years. Something about missing me too much," she says hyperly.

"I don't blame her," I say. She kisses me happily. Then it dawns on me.

"Oh shit!" I exclaim, my eyes widening and my grip on my girlfriend's waist tightening. "I have to meet your friend. Your friend is going to meet me. I'm not ready for this. What if she doesn't like me? What . . ."

I'm cut off with a pair of lips on mine.

"She'll love you, Sunshine, don't worry so much. Wouldn't want you hurting that beautiful mind of yours," she says then kisses my forehead tenderly.

I nuzzle my nose into her neck before tickling her, making her laugh uncontrollably.

* * *

I feel on top of the mother fucking world walking back into school Monday with Santana's hand in mine. She's gotten over her fear of the school and strides next to me with a newfound confidence.

Puck walks towards us with two slushies in hand and I step in front of Santana protectively.

"Chill bro, they're for drinking," he says chuckling.

"Sorry," I say sheepishly, "Reflex," I step aside and let Santana choose what flavor she wants before taking the remaining one.

"So cus," Puck says smirking, "Heard you beat up McKinley's HBIC," Santana blushes shyly, "Way to go!" Puck says sticking up his hand of a high-five. Santana and I both grin as she slaps her hand against his.

I see the cheerio minions walk down the hallway. Everybody laughs at the gauze on Stephanie's nose, no doubt broken, bruised right eye, and busted lip. She glares at our trio but we just laugh like everybody else.

"Oh man," Puck says clutching his stomach with laughter, "You really got her good Tana."

"Eh," she shrug confidently, "Anything to protect my girl," She says wrapping her free arm around my waist.

I swoon. We fall into easy chatter as Santana animatedly tells Puck the story of how she went "All Lima Heights" on Stephanie, until the bell rings and we go our respective ways.

* * *

"Well, Brittany, you're shoulder healed quite nicely," says the doctor eying my x-ray. Santana and I smile at each other.

"You're going to need about three weeks of rehab, but after that you should be perfectly fine. I'm going to give you the number of a therapist I know and let him know your situation. Now, I say this in the nicest way possible, but I hope I won't be seeing you soon," he says shaking my hand.

"Thanks Doc, 'ppreciate it," I say to him.

Santana and I go out for lunch afterwards and I try to talk her into telling me what she got me for Christmas, but she refuses. I change the topic after realizing she's not going to budge.

"So, what's Quinn like?" I ask.

"Quinn. . . well, she's Quinn. She can be harsh at times but she's a really good friend and she's going to love you babe. Stop stressing. I can tell when you're tense. Everything's going to be okay," she says reassuringly.

"You're right, I just. . . this is my first time doing the whole 'meet the friends' thing, I don't wanna screw it up," I say unusually small.

She reaches out and gives my hand a squeeze and a comforting smile before the waiter arrives with our food and we dig in greedily.

* * *

Christmas is exactly one week away and I can't be more excited. I can't wait to see the look on Santana's face when she opens the gift I got her. Rehab is going quite well. My trainer is a fairly young man named Carl. But it's okay he totally plays for my time. Although I'll admit jealous Santana is such a turn on.

The first day she picked me up with flowers in hand, she made sure to threaten the existence of Carl's future family. But after reassuring her that he played for the our team and was happily married, him and Santana have become good acquaintances.

We have four more days before the center shuts down for holiday break. McKinley shuts down in two. We'll have off for both until the second of the new year, though. Quinn's school doesn't go back until the fifth, so she'll be staying with us until the fourth. Santana and I already decided she'll stay at my house because Puck's house is already full. But Santana's always over here anyway, so it really doesn't make that much of a difference.

Those four days fly by quickly. Santana has been nothing but supportive through my first week of rehab. She's dropped me off, picked me up, stayed with me, helped me, brought me flowers and food and most importantly, sweet lady kisses. It's continued to snow over the past few days. We met our kid friends at the park again and helped them build a snow family. Santana is amazing with kids. She's going to make the best mom.

Speaking of parents, my dad has been off lately. He's always working or "going out to drinks with friends" when I know for a fact, he has two friends: Holly and me, and two, he doesn't drink. I figure he'll tell me when he's ready. That's how we work.

It's Christmas eve eve and we've decided to spend it watching classic movies and drinking hot chocolate. Dad makes the most awesome hot chocolate ever. He won't teach me yet, but apparently my girlfriend gets special treatment. They pushed me into the living room to pick out a movie while dad teaches her "the secret." They're the craziest bunch of people I've ever met, but I wouldn't trade them for anyone else.

**Spoiler! Next chapter will be winter break. Santana reveals her project to Brittany! Suggestions? Love to hear them, you know what to do [points down to review box] :) **


	9. Chapter 9: Author's Note

**Hi my little birds, I am so soo sorry to inform you that I have a concussion and won't be able to write/update for at least two weeks! My sincerest apologies, I don't like this anymore than you do. I promise when I'm all better I will make up for the lost time. Until then, my darlings. Thanks for understanding**


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